Festival of Shadows

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Authors: Michael La Ronn

Festival of Shadows

A Decision Select Novel

Michael La Ronn

Copyright 2014 © Michael La Ronn. All rights reserved.

Cover Design:
Kip Ayers
.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 

Except as permitted under the Copyright Act of 1976, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part in any manner, except up to 250 words for the purpose of reviewing or discussing only. For additional quotation beyond 250 words, please contact the author.

To Teddy.

Thanks for keeping me safe from the monsters under the bed all these years.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Tutorial

Chapter 1: Sinister Sundown

Chapter 2: Smoke Between the Eyes

Chapter 3: Quest for the Whatsamadoozle

Chapter 4: Finding Gasket

Chapter 5: The Fish on the Mountain

Chapter 6: Wag the Dog

Chapter 7: Aliens & Other Inconveniences

Chapter 8: No More Friends

Chapter 9: Big Trouble on the Little Choo Choo

Chapter 10: A Discovery

Chapter 11: Festival of Shadows

Chapter 12: Sluicing Around

Chapter 13: An Unexpected Foe

Chapter 14: Shatter the Darkness

Thank You

Afterword

Coming Soon

Reminder

Acknowledgments

About Michael

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CHAPTER 1

Sinister Sundown

Theo woke up in a puddle of dirty water.
 

He propped himself up against a box and rubbed his head. He was in the basement, and it was dark. He had been in the basement many times, but this time the darkness changed it. The stacks of boxes and old furniture, which looked normal during the day, now took strange shapes. Scary shadows danced against the wall—claws, fangs, and wings that seemed as if they wanted to rip him apart.
 

The cement floor was cold, and he hugged himself to keep warm. The stale, damp air made him cough. He struggled to take a deep breath. He tried to focus his eyes, but everything hovered around him as if he were in a waking dream. Through the window above, he could see the pink and orange rays of sunset burning through blades of grass.
 

A shadow swept over the basement, and he realized it was dusk.
 

Grant is unprotected. I’ve got to get upstairs before nightfall.

He staggered toward the stairs, the grogginess lifting as he padded across the room. He passed the old crib, tall and nefarious in the low light; he had lain there with Grant during afternoon naps, snuggling up against him as the mobile lulled them both to sleep. That was a long time ago. The crib had once belonged to Grant’s older brother, Shawn, and he remembered how Shawn had never snuggled with him. Shawn’s teenage face, brown and pimpled, flashed through Theo’s mind, sneering at him; it was the same sneer he had worn before he’d launched Theo into the basement.
 

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He climbed the wooden steps, one by one, hoisting himself onto each stair with all his strength. He jumped and grabbed the golden doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn.

Please open.

He knocked, but his furry paws didn’t make a sound. He threw himself against the door—nothing but a soft thud.
 

An old sneaker lay near the door. He pounded the door with it, and soon he heard footsteps on the other side. He dropped to the floor and went stiff.

 
Mom opened the door. She wore a green sweater and blue jeans, and her curly red and black micro braids hung down to her shoulders. She studied Theo, peering at him from underneath her glasses.

“Theo, what are you doing down here?”
 

She picked him up, inspected him, and clucked her tongue. “Shawn, did you throw Theo in the basement?”

Shawn was sitting at the kitchen table doing his ninth-grade algebra homework. He wore a hoodie and baggy jeans.
 

“Yeah. Grant needs to grow up,” he said.

Mom carried Theo to the kitchen sink, rinsed the dirt from his ears, and dried him with a paper towel. She set him on the counter and smiled. As she turned back to Shawn, still angry, Theo looked out into the backyard, where the sun was sinking into the horizon.

“I can’t believe you,” Mom said to Shawn. “Theo was yours when you were little, remember?”

Shawn puffed. “I don’t need a teddy bear anymore. Unlike my pathetic brother.”

Mom gave Shawn a death stare.

“We made a bet,” Shawn said. “I dared him to spend one night without Theo to prove that he was a man.”

“A man! He’s nine years old!”

“He hasn’t cried like a baby yet, so maybe he’s finally growin’ up.”
 

Mom continued her lecture as Shawn went back to his homework and ignored her. When they weren’t looking, Theo jumped off the counter and dashed into the hallway.
 

I’m almost there.

He ran to the stairs leading up to the second floor. He could hear Grant playing in his room upstairs, making noises and crashing sounds with the other toys.

Good. He’s still there.
 

He had just climbed onto the bottom stair when he heard a sudden bark. Amos, the family bulldog, charged down the hall and took Theo in his jaws.

“No, no, no, you stupid brute,” Theo said, punching Amos on the nose. “Can’t you see that it’s sunset? Don’t you know what will happen if I don’t make it upstairs?”

The dog panted and trotted into the living room, where Dad was sitting on the couch reading a book about African-American history. He wore a white button-up shirt and khakis with brown dress socks. He was deep in thought, stroking his beard with one hand while occasionally making notes on the pages.

Amos set Theo at Dad’s feet and barked. Theo went stiff again, and Dad picked him up.
 

“What are you doing down here, Theo? Let’s get you upstairs where you belong.”

Dad had almost reached Grant’s room when Mom called him.
 

“Honey, can you explain to Shawn that he can’t keep teasing his brother?”

“He doesn’t need to explain nothin’!” Shawn shouted.

Dad set Theo on a table and jogged back downstairs.
 

Theo jumped down from the table and ran to Grant’s room, where Grant was playing. His short, nappy hair stood out in unruly tufts, and he wore a green-and-white-striped rugby. He was missing a few teeth.

A twin bed surrounded by toys sat in the middle of the room, and posters of Grant’s favorite superheroes hung crooked on the sky-blue walls.

“Listen up,” Grant said. He held Nora the Boombox in one hand. She was orange and oval-shaped, with a CD drive on her head and a microphone attached to her side.
 

In his other hand, Grant held an action figure with long blond hair and a leather jacket. He moved the hero close to the microphone and pretended to speak for him.
 

“Come out with your hands up.”

There was a pause, and nothing happened. Grant frowned, and then tugged a string that stretched behind the bed. A spinning top rolled out, blinking and dancing in a circle.

“Okay,” Grant said, now speaking for the top, “You got me.”

“We trusted you,” James the Action Hero said. “And you betrayed us.”

“I needed the money,” the Top said. “And now you will see what I did with it!”

Grant ran to the other side of the room. He pulled a tow truck out of the toy box and threw it in front of the spinning top.
 

“You again?” Tompkins the Tow Truck said as Grant guided him toward James. “You gave me a beating back in ’73. I haven’t forgotten that. I hope you like pepperoni on your Tombstone, because I’m going to grind you into road pizza.”

James the Action Figure pounded his fists together and posed; Grant pushed a button on his back and the brass knuckles painted on James’s hands glowed.

Grant sighed and shook James to make him speak. “If we had Theo with us, this battle would have already been over.”

James and Tompkins the Tow Truck circled each other, and Theo relaxed as he watched Grant play.
 

He’s safe.
 

Grant raised Tompkins into the air and yelled “Vroom!”

Outside, the horizon swallowed the sun, and a shadow fell over the room. Purple clouds billowed from beneath the bed, choking Grant. A booming laugh echoed as the room filled with smoke.
 

“It can’t be—” Theo cried.

Grant screamed.

Theo charged into the smoke just in time to see two wispy hands around Grant’s waist. They pulled the boy under the bed, leaving behind a portal of purple smoke.

Stratus.

Theo jumped onto a large ball and threw himself onto the bed. He reached behind the pillow, grabbed his wooden sword and shield, and dropped down to the floor. He was about to enter the portal when he heard a voice.

“Theo, don’t go.”

Topperson, the spinning top, spun in place as he spoke. The rest of the toys cowered behind him.
 

“You’ll never make it out alive. Grant is Stratus’s property now.”

“You failed to protect him,” Theo said, not turning around. “You have no right to speak.”

“How could we resist? He would have killed us all.” Topperson spun across the floor and stopped in front of Theo. His insides lit up as if they were on fire. “Theo, that portal goes to the Stratusphere. It’s no place for a toy.”

“It’s no place for Grant, either.”
 

“It’s an evil place. Shadows lurk in every corner. I am lucky to have escaped.” Topperson spun closer, showing a deep cut across his face, but Theo pushed him aside.
 

“Stratus is going to pay.”

A roar came from the portal, and an ogre with a club climbed out. He had three cloudy eyes, scaly orange skin, and wore ripped overalls. He dwarfed Theo.
 

The other toys screamed and climbed into the toy box as the ogre roared again.
 

“Stratus has sent a toy from the other side to destroy us,” Topperson said.
 

Theo jumped back and readied his sword. “He won’t stop me,” he said, slanting his eyes.

~ Theo slashed at the ogre.

~ He ran toward the toy box.
 

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The wooden sword bounced off the ogre’s leg and Theo stumbled backward.

The ogre laughed and raised his club.
 

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